


Bubbles

by gratuitousWordsmith



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, secretkarezitime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratuitousWordsmith/pseuds/gratuitousWordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Crescentstarlight on tumblr as part of secretkarezitime!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> recommended listening: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wspuBxQhSaw (or literally anything by passion pit) and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ApYlDZVpSc (second song is best if started playing at the line of asterisks)

You certainly aren’t choking down confessions of red infatuation with a glass of something sweet and bubbly as you lounge across some pieces of furniture in his hiveblock. Certainly not what would ever give someone the idea that that was exactly what you were doing. Maybe because it is. It is what you were doing. A hot third Summer’s evening found you leaning on the side of his recoopracoon, the rough organic surface sticking to your sweaty skin. He lounged, half-in half-out of the slime, his head on your shoulder. The movie bubbled from the husktop propped up on your lap. You took another sip of the colourful swill and turned away from the screen. “I knooow this is one of your favourites, Karkat, but even someone like you has to admit it’s really boring.” You frown at him but discover that he’s fallen asleep, a thin trail of almost-red saliva dribbling down his chin. Sweeping your head from side-to-side, you knock horns with him, gently rousing the slumbering troll. He stretches out his arms, locking them around your neck sleepily, then recoils as if burned. He apologizes and towels the acid apple sludge, letting it and its sharp yet calming scent falling to the floor. He swaddles his iron skin in black licorice and joins you on the ground. You let the silence linger for far too long before finally voicing an opinion on the matter: you were bored. You reach the bottom of your tall cylinder of soda, the last few bursts of carbonation exploding on your tongue and tickling your throat. Some other words and ideas crowd in the back of your throat but common sense is strong enough to hold them off, only letting “Let’s go on an adventure” spill forward.  *** Adventures are something you’re good at. Very good at. FLARPing has lead all sorts of secret places to your knowledge, to be pillaged or war-run at a later date. But there was one you never really got around to showing Vriska. It was near enough to Karkat’s hive to walk to and was beautiful. It crossed over the edge of a forest and ran through it for maybe a hundred paces. Colour bubbled and burst from every crevice and practically choked you with sensory overload. Of course you didn’t want to show him until you got there. It would ruin the surprise when he could see it from far away. So, with a swear on his red-beating heart that he’ll keep his eyes closed lest Inspector Melonfoot arrest him, the two of you creep towards the woods. He gives you a verbal flogging for not revealing your destination, which wasn’t totally unexpected. The grass is thick and tangled around your shoes and you might have started dragging him at one point and your cane catches in every little sinkhole and the dusty night air made it hard to smell, but you reach the spot, in haling deeply, your red eyes rolling back in bliss. God and any other entities out there you thank them for this beautiful bouquet of slick cherry and blazing orange cream and bubbles of the brightest blue you’ve ever tasted. You’ve only ever been here by yourself, but now you’re here, in your special place, with the troll your red quadrant does backflips for and begs to be treated with.  Karkat Vantas infuriates you, but there’s something in his quips and jests that’s kind and challenging and lovable. And it’s so great that you reach up and peel his fingers from his face and just hold them in yours as your mind trips over his gasp of ‘woah’. The word is so awed and innocent that it surprises you for a moment. Something about this place could turn grumpypants mcbluhletters into a speechless gapefish. He says your name but doesn’t connect the word to anything meaningful, and that’s alright. Its alright because he squeezes your hand and says that it was defiantly way less boring than his movie. Joy bubbles inside of you and you laugh, pushing off on your toes and pecking him on the cheek. You say it’s no big deal but that’s a lie. You choke back those red feelings once again but are awful at it, and even worse when he kisses you back. 


End file.
